Unalterable Sentiments
by SunnyRea
Summary: On August 27th, 1782 Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens does not die; he lives.


On August 27th, 1782 Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens might have died.

He may have learned of British troop movements and followed his friend Gist to intercept them gathering supplies and stealing one more thing from South Carolina, from all their colonies. He may have ridden into battle after the war's end. He may have been shot from his saddle and stared up at the sky wondering why he chose this, pain and blood flowing from his chest.

On August 27th, 1782 Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens may have died like so many in the war.

Or.

On August 27th, 1782 Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens receives a letter dated August 15th from Alexander Hamilton, uncommonly fast to reach him what with distance from New York and the remains of war in its way.

He reads on its page, among other messages of Hamilton's appointments and the prospect of peace now upon them, thoughts on the problem of creating a new nation from the ashes of their war;

 _It requires all the virtue and all the abilities of the Country. Quit your sword my friend, put on the_ _toga_ _, come to Congress. We know each others sentiments, our views are the same: we have fought side by side to make America free, let us hand in hand struggle to make her happy.1_

Laurens had been previously appointed as a special minister to France, he served in the South Carolina House of Representatives and obtained his law degree upon his father's insistence. He could help and his dream of emancipation to those in bondage has yet to be obtained. Thus inspired, John Laurens chooses instead to do as asked, quit the sword, and makes his way north toward New York.

On August 27th, 1782 Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens does not die; he lives.

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Laurens meets Hamilton at his law offices in New York City. Hamilton blows out the candles, pulls Laurens past his desk and piles of papers, to the side room full of law books and a cot for late work nights turned to early mornings. They lie close together in a too small space, reminiscent of their shared nights during war but this time with far more warmth.

"I missed you." Hamilton whispers through kisses and fingers tangling in Laurens' cravat. "I missed you." He whispers Laurens' name over and over with every touch, "Jack, my dear Jack."

"My boy," Laurens whispers back, pulling at buttons and forgetting the sounds of guns and sorrow which used to surround their bliss. "I missed you so."

"I feared you would not return to me."

"I have."

"I feared…"

Laurens pulls Hamilton closer, kisses his eyelids, runs his fingers through Hamilton's red hair. "I am right here."

––––––––––

"If we continue to rely on the sweat of labor that is not our own, labor which we have forced out of the backs of these poor men and women –"

"You have sung this song before, Representative Laurens," the Speaker cuts off Laurens from the bench.

"South Carolina must rely on those slaves who know nothing more than the fields of our farms," Representative Gadsden counters. "That is their place and where they are most suited. You would have us turn them out wild?"

"You generalize, sir," Laurens snaps back, "and make a mockery of men who deserve not to live lives of bondage but free, as does any other man!"

A few snickers ripple through the assembly. "You would equate the black man with the white, sir?"

Laurens stares down his fellow congressmen. "As should you. This measure would –"

"Sit down, Representative Laurens," the Speaker interrupts Laurens again. "You have given us your view on the measure of gradual emancipation, and the House shall vote on it."

Laurens writes to Hamilton;

 _The workings of the South Carolina government are frustrating and slow. They see not beyond their personal interests and prejudice;_ _That our Christian souls will suffer as much as those who toil against their will matters not. These blacks have been forced into a position to lose their humanity and we should lose our own for causing thus. I told you when last we saw one another I must first reform my own state but I grow weary of fighting against a resistant wall._

Hamilton writes back;

 _You need not toil so fruitlessly in South Carolina. These colonies may not remain so loosely bonded and such stagnant views are not the only ones on your horizon. The Articles of Confederation which connect us should be strengthened into iron not just straw. Come back to New York, my dear Laurens, and help me._

––––––––––

Frances Eleanor Laurens stands before Laurens in the front parlor of his father's house. His father still remains in France to resolve issues with The Netherlands related to the war, so Laurens is alone when his daughter arrives from England. The letter telling of her setting sail arrived only two weeks before the girls herself giving Laurens little time to prepare and no time to rebuke the proposition of her moving to America. However, as her grandparents said in their letter, she is his daughter and should be with her father.

"Mr. Laurens," Frances says by way of greeting accompanied with a proper English curtsey.

She does not look up at him.

"Frances…" Laurens says in return but he cannot think what more to add.

The child – his child – is eight years old now and every bit a young lady, folded hands at her waist and haired curled in all the proper places. Laurens thinks perhaps she looks like her mother though he nearly forgets her face now. Laurens was already gone, off to fight and perhaps just as much to flee, when Frances was born and then when her mother died. In truth Laurens wanted nothing to do with either of them; he never desired a wife nor a child. He knew what he was then, who he desired, despite his attempt with Frances' mother which forced their marriage. The duties of marriage did not change Laurens' inclinations.

"Frances, I… I am pleased to meet you," Laurens finally manages. "You may call me…" He watches as her fingers twitch and her jaw clenches and he wonders if she already resents him. "You may call me father."

"Yes, father," she replies and it makes Laurens' skin crawl.

––––––––––

 _I write you, as I received dispensation from the Annapolis delegates to do so, with a request I find myself in possession of as well. The decision has been finally made, as you well know I have been longing for, to discuss improvements to the Articles of Confederation. You no doubt know of the dispute between Maryland and Virginia over the Potomac and many more disagreements beyond which the Articles cannot properly resolve. The delegates wish to bring representatives from each state to determine resolutions to issues of trade between states and the like._

 _And here in lies my reason for writing which you have no doubt surmised. Your father's name was mentioned in regards to a representative from South Carolina. While I value your father well and would give no dishonor to his name, I took it upon myself to suggest a younger set was required on occasion as it is our youth, yours and mine and those who fought far more, that should determine how our states will endure henceforth. As well I am with words you will not be surprised to learn I prevailed and the naming of you to the convention has gone forward. All that remains is for you to accept and come north this May to join the convention._

 _My dear Laurens, the changes you wish, those we both wish to see for our country and all those who live within it, can come. You can help it along and I would so desire to see your face again since you tore yourself away from my affection back to South Carolina. Think of the whole, Laurens, and think of me. Please do us the honor of accepting the appointment to the Constitutional Convention. Adieu_

 _Affectionately yrs,_

 _A. Hamilton_

––––––––––

Laurens purchases a townhouse in New York City. The convention will mostly take place in Philadelphia but Laurens knows his final destination after all the decision and debate will be the city with Hamilton in it. Only their second day in the city, Laurens and his few servants (paid servants) work to unpack the house.

"Will we attend the theater?" Frances asks him tentatively.

"Of course," Laurens says as he puts books on the shelf in his library, foreign and familiar around him at once.

He hears Frances make a pleased noise but neither of them attempts to fill the silence after her question. Laurens hears what sounds like a tinkling bell from somewhere in the house. However, he does not recognize the sound to connect to the front door until his housekeeper, Mrs. Knoll, raps on the library door.

"A Mr. Hamilton to see you, sir."

Laurens turns in time to find Hamilton framed in the doorway, walking stick in hand and smile as wide as oceans and happy as quiet nights under warm sheets.

"Laurens," He says quietly, stepping forward then he glances to his left and stops short.

Laurens clears his throat. "Mr. Hamilton, allow me to introduce Miss Frances Eleanor Laurens… my daughter."

Hamilton bows to her quickly but Laurens does not miss the flicker of shock across his face before he does. "Miss Laurens."

Frances curtseys back with a murmured 'Mr. Hamilton' in reply, her eyes on the carpet even as she rises again. Hamilton looks at her for a moment, clears his throat then turns back to Laurens clearly at a loss.

"Frances," Laurens says, somewhat curtly, "would you please leave Mr. Hamilton and I to discuss some business?"

"Yes, father." She curtseys to them both again, then skirts around Hamilton, out the door and closes it behind her.

Hamilton stares at Laurens. The fingers of his free hand clench and unclench once as he watches Laurens. Laurens thumbs the book in his hand and wonders if he should put it on the shelf as he intended or just drop it.

Hamilton finally breaks the silence. "You have a daughter?" Laurens nods. "This means…" Hamilton swallows over the word then raises both eyebrows. "This means you have a wife?"

"Had." Laurens gestures with the book. "She died more than a year before the war's end in England."

"You never told me." Hamilton shakes his head and suddenly grips the walking stick with both hands. "A wife and daughter and you never told me?"

"You have a wife and two children, Hamilton."

"You never told me," Hamilton repeats.

Laurens stares at Hamilton for a moment. "I left them behind. I take no pride in this but… but they were not something I wanted and with the war it had seemed likely I would never see either one again."

Hamilton frowns. "You expected to die?"

Laurens tilts his head in confusion. "Did you not?"

––––––––––

Laurens visits the Hamilton's house often. Frances plays with young Philip and Angelica, teaching the two of them songs and keeping them out of the adult's way. Laurens wonders at how grown up she can be before even reaching ten years of age. Mrs. Hamilton smiles and orders tea and plays the perfect part of 'wife' which Laurens cannot truly understand. He sees her 'black eyes,' as Hamilton once described them, and the way she smiles at Hamilton – it is love, not simply duty.

"Mr. Hamilton keeps me as busy as himself with his practice, I wonder I do not have black fingers but from the transcribing I assist him with," Mrs. Hamilton tells him.

"He is never one for rest."

Mrs. Hamilton invites Laurens for dinner; she brings him papers at his law firm from Alexander to review and advise on. Frances learns how to set a proper tea and paint china at Mrs. Hamilton's side. Laurens practices Latin with Philip. He scoops up Angelica and carries her around the house, telling her secrets about fields in South Carolina while Hamilton follows behind him, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Stay for dinner," Mrs. Hamilton says yet again, ringing for their housekeeper. "It is ham tonight."

"She likes you," Hamilton whispers in his ear. "I told you she already adored you as I did."

"Not just as you do, I hope," Laurens chides.

The Hamilton house becomes a second home to Laurens and his daughter, Mrs. Hamilton helping to raise Frances without any of them realizing and Laurens thinks there is something very right and something very wrong about all of it.

––––––––––

"Tea, Hamilton." Hamilton makes a small noise but continues to write. "It is at your elbow," Laurens cautions. "Be wise you do not knock it over onto what you write so furiously."

"My housekeeper brought us tea but an hour ago. I am fine."

Laurens laughs. "Your hour ago is the rest of this world's three, Alexander."

Hamilton looks up at this, be it the time passed or Lauren's use of his first name is hard to tell. He squints at the grandfather clock against the far wall, now difficult to discern in the faint candle light. He glances around the room with a frown.

"If you are looking for Mr. Madison," Laurens supplies, "he left more than an hour ago himself. He did say his farewells and you replied."

"Did I?"

"Faintly."

"I simply wish to have this draft finished so I may review the finished product come morning."

Laurens purses his lips. "And which morning would that be, the one which we currently inhabit as the hour is past midnight or another?"

"You need not jest," Hamilton grumbles. "The more you insist upon distracting me, the longer it shall take."

Laurens smiles but restrains himself from another remark. He sits in a chair partway between the fire and Hamilton's desk. He picks up the first few pages of Hamilton's current essay, reading slowly.

"It is not complete yet."

Laurens' looks up over the edge of the page. "I am aware. Madison's essay is, however, and should join the rest of your essays in a day or two."

"He left out –"

"You certainly plan to write more, Hamilton," Laurens interrupts, "so please, do not fret over missing lines you are bound to add on your own. And, if you are concerned about what is missing, the issue of slavery is somewhat devoid from these essays thus far."

Hamilton looks up at him. "Your southern states are obstinate in their beliefs. If John Dickinson's speeches could not sway them, I worry nothing will. You observed how quickly they railed against the notion of outlawing slavery all together."

"Yes." Laurens rubs a hand over his forehead. "This compromise upon the international trade is a mockery of the institution of slavery itself," he huffs. "It is not a matter of trade but of morals, of lives!"

"Jack," Hamilton says softly so Laurens turns toward him. "You know my mind; I share your view and I am as loathe to compromise on the matter as you are but this constitution must pass." He waves a hand over his papers. "We must sway public opinion and half of our public resides in the south." Hamilton makes a wry face. "Am I not supposed to be the obstinate one?"

Laurens smiles back at him. "Perhaps I shall work to surpass you." He tilts his head to the side thoughtfully, looking at the papers in piles around Hamilton. "And publish my own essays."

Hamilton chuckles. "I look forward to that."

"As I to the moment when you put down your quill and quit this writing for bed." Laurens looks away at the fire. "Your wife must note your absence."

The room falls silent for a moment, Hamilton's scratching quill gone still and only a gentle crackle from the fire. Then Hamilton speaks, voice low, "perhaps she does, but you have gained it."

––––––––––

"A cabinet position?"

President Washington nods at him. "Yes. I have been considering you for Attorney General or the Secretary of War."

Laurens gives him a wry look. "The war is over, sir."

Washington nods again and puts his cup of tea down on the table between them. "That does not mean there may not be another."

Laurens nods back and take a small sip of his tea. The china feels too delicate in his hands. It reminds him of South Carolina. Washington watches him for a moment, does not move to pick up his tea again but he was never one to fidget; always the commander in chief, be it of the army or now the nation.

Finally, he folds his hands in his lap. "I wanted to speak to you to learn of your preferences on the matter."

"Of which position I would prefer? I am being given a choice?"

Washington smiles a little. "I wish to ask you about your preferences on a position in itself."

Laurens frowns. "Sir, do you have reservations about my abilities to serve? I hope I have not given any sort of offense or doubt as to my character."

Washington shakes his head. "Certainly not, Lieutenant Colonel. I am concerned more about your personal feelings and wishes on the matter. You have, at times, been rash on the battle field." Laurens attempts to school his expression but he certainly cannot deny Washington's assessment. "I think," Washington continues, "you would still want to be part of the battle, as it were."

"And the cabinet is not 'in the battle?" Laurens finishes.

"I suspect as we continue to build this great nation there will be many battles fought but I suspect much of such battles will occur within the congress and senate."

Laurens nods. "As it has been in the states."

"Yes. I know you have already been outspoken in your views on the future of slavery. While we may differ somewhat on our opinions on the matter I do respect your drive. However, I also know your passion would be better served in congress than as a member of my cabinet."

Laurens has to agree. As a member of the cabinet, he would have less room for his own opinions and own crusade. As a senator he could make speeches and affect laws more directly as he wishes.

"Sir, I feel I must ask…"

"Yes?"

"Why not simply deny me the positions? You owe me no explanation nor was I even aware of any interest in my person for these roles."

Washington smiles and nods at him. The expression on his face tells Laurens all he needs to know.

"Ah, I see I have a champion campaigning on my behalf." Laurens purses his lips and finally puts down the tea cup, fearful he may break it in his clenching fingers. "May I ask whom felt so inclined to put my name forward for one or both of these cabinet appointments?"

"I imagine, Laurens, you are able to surmise a likely candidate who only has your perceived best interests at heart."

"My father or Hamilton?"

Washington chuckles once. "Both, in fact." Then he clears his throat just a little which could mean any number of things but likely that someone has tried his patience to an extent. "One more than another."

"He need not do so; he said nothing to me."

"A surprise considering how much he has to say."

They both laugh at that.

Laurens picks up his tea again and takes a big gulp finishing the cup. He puts it back on the table and smiles. "If you wish, sir, you may tell Hamilton, and my father, that I declined the positions."

Washington frowns. "I rarely lie, Mr. Laurens."

Laurens smiles at him and gestures with one hand. "But it is not a lie; I am declining them now." He tilts his head. "Even if you did not wholly offer either one to me."

"Spoken like a politician, Laurens."

Laurens nods. "Perhaps. The war is over; now our charge is politics."

––––––––––

Laurens and Hamilton lie side by side in a pile of pillows near the fire on the floor of Laurens' upstairs study. The hour is late but neither of them sleep, legs and arms curled around each other and clothes in various places about the room. A candle still burns on the table but it is the hearth providing most of the light. Hamilton runs his fingers through Lauren's hair, twisting and tangling, while his face presses into Lauren's upper arm. Laurens' hand rests against Hamilton's chest, feeling the rise and fall and the beating of his heart.

"Alexander…"

"John," he replies with more formality than he usually does in such situations. Laurens feels Hamilton smiling against his skin.

"You are married," Laurens says bluntly and Hamilton's fingers stop moving. "And this is not the war."

"You were married," Hamilton says after a moment. "I have been married for some time now. It has not mattered yet."

"Perhaps it should have."

"We are different, Jack."

Laurens scoffs and shuts his eyes for a moment. "I am quite aware of my own difference to what is proper in this world." He opens his eyes again and looks down at the half of Hamilton's face not buried in his arm or pillows. "But you, Alexander, you are not thus. You can be free of this."

Hamilton props himself up on his forearms to look at Laurens. "Do I appear to you as if I wish to be free of this?"

Laurens sighs and looks away. "You should be. You can be. You care for your wife, you… you love her."

"And I love you. Do you doubt me?"

Laurens turns back to Hamilton with a shake of his head, reaching out to touch Hamilton's cheek. "No, I do not doubt you." Then he pulls his hand away again. "But you do love your wife so you need not continue these dalliances of ours. It is not safe, especially with your new cabinet position. We should –"

"You should stop this line of thought and recall how I am lying here beside you," Hamilton insists, gripping Laurens' arm.

"It is not safe," Laurens repeats. "We risk exposure every day."

"We risked our lives in the war."

"It is the same, Alexander."

Hamilton pulls his hand back then rests his forehead on his hands. They are both silent for a long moment. Laurens notices the candle on the table has gone out. Then Hamilton lifts his head again and turns to Laurens.

"You are not a coward, Jack, so I can only surmise you desire to spare me in some way. But listen to my words, I do not wish to be spared. I told you my marriage would not change this between us. I do not wish it nor anything else to keep you from me." He glances down at his hands, his fingers now tracing a line along Lauren's arm, then he looks up again at Laurens. "Do you truly wish to end this?"

Laurens stares at him, firelight behind him. He looks so beautiful with light framing his face and Laurens can think of nothing else which makes him so happy. "No, I do not."

Hamilton smiles. "Then stay here with me, Jack. I am not leaving."

––––––––––

"So her schooling is proceeding well?" Mrs. Hamilton asks.

"Her tutors all speak highly of her," Laurens replies. "Though we have thrown off the English yoke, something must be said for their skills in education."

"Your father sent you there to study law yourself, Laurens," Hamilton adds.

Mrs. Hamilton smiles as she pours more water into her glass. "England will always have a presence in our lives in some fashion. It may not be our future but it is our past."

Laurens cuts a piece of chicken on his plate and remembers a time when hot dinners were rare, when their food was bread and water and thin soup, when meat was a luxury and, if found, would often be half rotten and frozen. He remembers when England was the enemy and a redcoat was a reason to grab for a gun; it has not been so long yet.

"I must say, Mr. Laurens, we will dearly miss your company in Philadelphia."

Laurens' head snaps up from his remembrances. "Philadelphia?"

Across the table, Hamilton is not looking at him.

"Yes," Mrs. Hamilton fills in, "the government is to move this fall. We have taken a house on Walnut street."

Laurens watches Hamilton, his hand clenching tightly around his fork. "I had heard Philadelphia was a favored option for the interim capital but I did not know it had been decided."

"Yes," Hamilton finally looks at Laurens as he picks up his glass of wine. "It was felt to be southern enough to appease the south as well as symbolically connected to our country's formation."

Laurens twists his fork around on his plate, knocking peas from side to side. "I am afraid we had not heard of Philadelphia's final crowning in the state senate."

Mrs. Hamilton laughs. "Crowning? Indeed."

"It is a city used to the movement of politics," Hamilton says.

Lauren stabs one of the errant peas on his plate. "Ah yes, just as any city with a government."

"I did not choose it alone nor will it be the permanent capital should the building of the federal capital progress as planned. Do you find some fault in Philadelphia, Laurens?" Hamilton takes a large gulp of his wine and Laurens watches his free hand tap a rhythm on the tablecloth.

"I find it a fine city. New York is also a fine city."

"It has served well as a capital thus far but it cannot maintain, not with your southern states in desperation for a firmer grip on its policies."

Laurens scoffs. "Ah yes, because I wish you moved further south?"

"Gentlemen!" Mrs. Hamilton interrupts. "I think this argument over a city rather silly, moreover as neither of you have any sway over the matter now that it is decided!" She blows out a slow breath as the two of them look chastised. "Are you both sufficiently calm now that we may continue our dinner without a needless brawl?"

"My apologies, Eliza," Hamilton says to her sincerely.

"Apologies, Mrs. Hamilton," Laurens murmurs.

Hamilton shoots him a look as Mrs. Hamilton turns to acknowledge Lauren's apology. Laurens tries to turn his frown into a neutral expression.

"I hope Philadelphia agrees with you both," Laurens finally allows as he picks up his own wine glass.

"Thank you," Mrs. Hamilton says. "I hope so as well."

Hamilton smiles at Laurens, an apology Laurens reads in his expression. Laurens cannot help but wonder darkly if the distance will cool their affections (Hamilton's affections) which only maintained in distance through the war because their relationship was new and no wife stood by Hamilton's side.

Laurens does not notice to his right, as he broods into his wine glass, the searching look Mrs. Hamilton gives him.

––––––––––

 _Laurens, I know you tire of my repetition upon the matter but the bank consumes every action of my waking hours and every thought in my head. The need to build our country into one which can match those of Europe cannot be underscored. How many of them still see us as the rebellious child who will certainly fall now left alone? As we now have a unifying government, should it not follow to unify our debts and establish a line of credit as other sovereign nations? If we wish to prove ourselves capable we must not squabble so about one state over another. The point of our great rebellion was to govern ourselves and did we not do so as one? Did not the states come together to throw off our shared British oppression? So should it not follow, now the fighting passes, that we work on together?_

 _The cabinet has become polarized over this issue. Jefferson insists the bank favors the north and I, in my New York connection, do not understand the agrarian south. I think perhaps he understands less of money and debt than he believes. You, no doubt, have heard of his own frivolities with money and debts. He deems to lecture me on a bank? President Washington is forever diplomatic and patient with us all. I imagine I must try him at times but it is no different than I have been in years past. Still, I will fight on with my pen as I did with my sword._

 _I need not repeat this mantra to you, as I know you understand my mind. Would that you were here beside me to hear this from my mouth and not simply my pen. I would far prefer your words to any on the cabinet. If you feared my fondness for you should wane what with the many trials of the Treasury upon me or the distance between our offices, you have misled yourself. Were you beside me I would show you how constant my regard for you remains._

 _Good luck with your slavery proposal in the New York senate; I hope only that one day soon you will stand upon a larger stage somewhat further south to make your dreams into law. Adieu, my dear._

 _Yrs sincerely,_

 _A. Hamilton_

––––––––––

 _My dear Hamilton,_

 _I had the great pleasure to receive your letter of a fortnight ago, though I was unable to find the time for a reply until today. Do not trouble yourself to apologize for replaying your woes to me. In fact, I should find it far more worrisome if your letter had not contained some complaint about your national bank._

 _As to the matter of opinions, I must caution you, Hamilton, to allow for difference of view. As the south views it, this is their money, not the country's. They allow for the sovereignty of the states within the whole and imagine this bank and pooling of debt to constitute a sort of threat and strain on their resources. While your view is long they are unfortunately stuck in a shorter mind. Your logic and planning may be sound but consider, it was not so long ago that our united states were very separate. How long did it take the first congress to decide upon independence? How much did we suffer from political ineptitude and stagnation during the war? Your bank will happen but certainly not with the swiftness you desire._

 _New York feels gray without your presence. Perhaps I shall submit to your wishes and peruse a higher office so I might find myself in your city. In lieu of that, do not forget the pleasures of New York, my dear boy, and visit as your time allows._

 _Yours,_

 _John Laurens_

––––––––––

Almost as soon as they ascend to the second floor and close the door to the study, Hamilton presses Laurens up against the wooden door with his lips on Laurens'. Hamilton's hands pull at his cravat then move to thread through his hair then back again as if he cannot decide which is more important. Laurens holds Hamilton's hips, keeps the two of them flush together.

"Welcome to Philadelphia," Hamilton says with a smile over Laurens' lips, "Senator John Laurens of New York."

Laurens laughs into the kiss, wants to say something clever, but Hamilton has finally removed Laurens' cravat and his nails scratch against the skin of Laurens' neck to distract him. Laurens kisses him back, runs his hand through Hamilton's hair, smells old books and fire smoke and some hint of rosemary.

"I missed you," Laurens whispers into their kisses.

Hamilton smiles, nips at his jaw. "I missed you..."

It is hard to tell if they fall or scramble toward the floor. Laurens spares a thought to wonder if the door is locked but then Hamilton's hands on his breeches make him forget everything else. Laurens pushes at heavy fabric, looks down at Hamilton's bright lips and bright hair and shining eyes. Then Hamilton flips them over, pins Laurens wrists to the wood floor and Laurens lets him.

"You have been away from me too long, Jack," Hamilton says, kissing him over and over, divesting him of his coat and pulling down his breeches completely. "I should keep you here always."

"Yes," is all Laurens can say as Hamilton's hands and mouth make short work of any sense remaining to him. "Yes…"

At dinner, they talk about politics and the treasury, the mint and their children, Frances nearly as tall as Hamilton now. Mrs. Hamilton talks of social gatherings and the difference in Philadelphia society, welcomes Laurens for his stay in their home for the senate term.

"Our house is yours while you are here, Mr. Laurens," she tells him.

"Our guest room did need more use," Hamilton adds with a smile that implies more than it should.

Laurens watches Hamilton's hands and thinks about kisses, thinks about being as close to each other as they have been since Valley Forge. He notices Hamilton watching him in return, the turn of Laurens' head and the distraction of his hair falling out of place. He does not notice how Mrs. Hamilton watches him too.

––––––––––

When Eliza and the children escape the summer heat to the north of New York and leave Hamilton behind in the city, Laurens fills the gap. One might have hoped for a more primal privacy but with Hamilton and his bank, the scribe wins out. More nights than not, Laurens sits across the table from Hamilton as he writes and crosses out then writes again, handing draft after draft of his bank proposal to Laurens to read.

"They must not find some misplaced parcel among the necessary measures to harp upon."

Laurens watches him, candle light at just the right angle to make his hair a brighter red. "They will always find something to harp upon."

"Then I will teach them a better music to play it to."

Laurens laughs at Hamilton's joke then rises from his chair when they hear a knock at the front door. Most of the servants gone with Mrs. Hamilton, Laurens answers the door himself. He finds a woman – more a girl – standing on the stoop.

"Mr. Hamilton? I am Maria Reynolds."

"And I am not Mr. Hamilton," Laurens corrects her. "Is he expecting you?"

She shifts from foot to foot, her eyes mostly downcast except for when she occasionally looks up through her lashes at Laurens. Though it has never had an effect upon him, it is a technique he recognizes. "No, I have come to impress upon his kindness for I am in a desperate need."

"Mr. Hamilton is very busy."

She moves upward a step closer to him. "Please, sir, I only need a moment."

"Laurens?" Hamilton calls from behind Laurens, his footsteps coming closer. "Who is it?" Hamilton appears at Laurens' arm and stares down at the woman. "Yes?"

"Oh, Mr. Hamilton!" She moves up another step, close enough to touch Hamilton's hand and for the shine of tears to now be visible in her eyes. "I wonder if I could have a moment of your time?" She makes a faint noise like a whimper or a sigh, it is hard to tell. "My circumstances are dire and I know you to be a man of honor."

Hamilton's face shifts a little, pity or interest, either way it is not a safe expression. Laurens clears his throat. "I know Mr. Hamilton is quite busy with work for the president. I can assist you, Miss. Reynolds, at present."

Laurens shifts his weight just enough so Hamilton must take a step backwards in the doorway and his hand is forced out of Miss. Reynolds'. Laurens sees a flicker of something across her face.

"Well, I…" Hamilton starts.

"You said you need this new draft by the morning, Hamilton," Laurens reminds him.

Hamilton looks at him for a moment then nods. He bows quickly to the lady. "Miss. Reynolds."

Laurens turns back to her as Hamilton disappears. She watches him for a moment, shifts her arms forward just enough so the hint of breasts beneath her low dress line is more apparent. Laurens steps down until he is level with her on the stoop.

"I have no illusions as you why you are here, Miss. Reynolds, no matter what story you may have created to find your way into the purse of my friend."

"Sir!" She gasps in offense and she makes a noise like sobbing though no tears fall from her eyes. "You misunderstand."

"I do not think I misunderstand."

She puts a hand to her lips, fingers parted so he can still see how full they are should he wish. "You do misunderstand, sir, my husband has abandoned myself and my daughter, treated us both most abominably. I would be most grateful for assistance I desperately need." She leans on the words 'grateful' and 'desperate' with tones speaking toward other meanings. "If you would only allow me to speak to Mr. Hamilton, I believe he would help me. I am not the kind of woman you may think I am."

Laurens only frowns at her and leans forward just enough to be aggressive. "I think you are the kind of woman who knows just how far she could progress and just how to use the right man under her thumb, _Mrs._ Reynolds." Her eyes widen and her mouth clicks closed over whatever denial she may have formed. "Whatever designs you may have had, forget them now and leave." He takes a step even closer so she must lean back out of his way. "Do not come back."

She opens her mouth once more, to deny or confirm his suspicions he knows not, because a moment later she whirls away from him, hurries down the steps then out through the front gate.

"What did she want?" Hamilton asks, not looking up from his paper as Laurens sits back down near Hamilton in the study.

"Nothing of consequence," Laurens lies.

––––––––––

"The introduction of this bill is a clear assault on the rights of the southern states!"

A rumble of, "Here, here," spreads through various senators in the hall.

"Senator Laurens thinks to upend the compromises of the constitution before the words are dry upon the page." Laurens glares at Senator Butler at the dais and shakes his head. Butler sneers at him. "Concessions were made and now this bill of gradual emancipation would work to cripple our industry."

"Industry, sir?" Laurens finally snaps, leaning forward in his seat. "Industry?"

"In twenty years the importation of new slaves may cease and if this bill should pass those slaves already in our country would –"

"Would become free men as under God they should be?" Laurens shouts.

"A bill which would cripple our economy with the removal of our –"

"Pennsylvania has already passed an act for the gradual abolition of slavery, their example –"

"Pennsylvania is not the south," one senator from Georgia shouts.

"Then perhaps the south should take note!"

"Sit down, Laurens!" Someone shouts from behind Laurens.

"Hear him out!" Another person shouts.

"You proselytize the importance of your economy," Laurens continues toward Butler, "over the value of men's souls? Be they white or black, their spirits are no different under our creator, yet you treat them as chattel and call this," he gestures to his copy of the bill on the table in front of him, "an attack?"

"You are out of line sir!" the president pro tempore shouts at him.

"You were from South Carolina, Senator Laurens," Butler taunts, "has New York poisoned you so against your roots?"

Burr jumps up beside Laurens. "I suggest, sir, you consider all New York has done for this union and then look to your own state and their contributions before you call us a poison!"

"Gentlemen!"

"This bill is a poison, senator!"

"Gentlemen!"

"This bill is a good!" Laurens insists over the shouting. "It is a compromise in itself in the service of what is right and it must be –"

"A junior senator, such as yourself, should –"

"Slavery is a necessary –"

"Gentlemen, cease this arguing and return to your seats!" The president pro tempore finally manages to shout above the general noise, so everyone quiets down. "You will all control your tempers and remain consistent in the decorum required of the senate. I expect you all to be representatives of your states and not school children!"

Butler shoots one more glare at Laurens as he returns to his seat. Laurens nods a thank you to Burr for his defense as they sit down. Laurens wonders, as the discussion begins again, if this is how Hamilton feels in his cabinet meetings.

The bill does not pass.

––––––––––

 _My dear Hamilton,_

 _Upon my arrival in South Carolina I have found the mood to be less dismal than I expected with the passing of my father. I mean not that his person is any less loved than he should be by his relations, only that his life is thought to have been well lived and those who remember him now do so with fondness._

 _My siblings and I have been at odds over several of the stipulations in his will, the most contentious being, as you may well expect, the matter of those slaves still bound to the estate. My brother, Henry, feels they should remain with the land but as I am the elder son it is within my power to emancipate the men. Henry argues that my flight, as he calls it, to the north should discount my say in the matter of the slaves and the land itself. It appears my absence has been well noted among the family but if the blustering of the senate has taught me one thing, it is that the longest fight may rise from the worthiest cause._

 _Frances has joined me from New York and sends her love to you and Mrs. Hamilton. Frances' French in particular has become most impeccable as is her painting and with no mother to provide her example. I suspect Mrs. Hamilton aided more in this than I should realize._

 _I send you my love as well and remind you your letters are as much a comfort as your presence when we are apart._

 _Yours ever_

 _John Laurens_

––––––––––

"I cannot understand this decision, I cannot understand you, Hamilton!"

Hamilton crosses his arms and does not meet Laurens eyes. "The decision was unanimous, Laurens. We are in no state to intervene."

Laurens scoffs and paces back and forth across the parlor rug. "No state? Were we in a state to wage a war ourselves during the revolution? Yet we still fought on."

"This is different."

"Different?" Laurens raises his eyebrows. "Different because we would be the ones to aid the French as opposed to when they aided our fight? You would deny them the very help they gave us?"

"It is not the same, Laurens!" Hamilton steps forward and grips Laurens' arms. "We barely came through the revolution intact. I know you recall our many defeats and retreats. How dire were our circumstances; how many men perished simply because we were ill equipped?"

Laurens takes a step back out of Hamilton's hands. "So we choose instead to leave France alone when they aided us, when they gave us the vital assistance we needed?"

"We must think of the good of the country, Laurens." Hamilton holds up his hands, placating. "France was able to help us then, we are not so now. Would you have us waste lives?"

"No," Laurens shakes his head and leans back against the table in the front window. "But nor would I have us break our promise. Do you not wish us to behave as a sovereign nation? Does that not include aiding our allies?"

"As much as it includes guarding against rash decisions and thinking of the good of the nation's stability."

Laurens presses his lips together tightly but does not attempt to counter Hamilton again. He grips the edge of the table then pushes himself back up to standing. He paces again for a moment then looks at Hamilton.

"Neutrality then?"

Hamilton nods. "Yes."

"It still smacks of cowardice by my estimation."

Hamilton gives him a wry look. "Your estimation sent you head first into battle and at least one bullet in your body." Laurens cannot help smiling a little. "Such a rash soldier as you are, it is lucky you are here now to see our nation whole as it is."

Laurens laughs this time. "Lucky any of us are here to see it."

Hamilton walks over to stand in front of Laurens. He reaches out and runs a hand over Laurens hair with a smile impossible to ignore. "No, Laurens, I am the luckiest of all. Imagine what you would have done to my poor heart if you had been killed."

Laurens reaches up and covers Hamilton's hand. "You would have survived, my boy; it is what you do."

Hamilton looks at him and makes a 'hmm' noise. "Well… much of me may have survived, but not all, Jack."

––––––––––

Hamilton and Laurens work side by side in the study at a table with three candles and far too many pieces of paper. Hamilton works on a report about proposed provisions to the Jay Treaty while Laurens reads the most recent version of the Jay Treaty the senate is to vote on. Laurens' ink well is nearly dry with the notes he makes and Hamilton has already progressed to his second.

"It is a wonder your entire cabinet salary is not set aside for ink, quill and paper, Hamilton."

Hamilton makes a huffing sound but continues to write without looking up at Laurens. Laurens sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead. The words have begun to mix upon the page and he wonders at the time. He picks up his glass of wine from the book table in the window, takes a large gulp then puts it down again.

"What provision do you write now?" Laurens asks. "I need not read a section if I know you plan to cut it to ribbons on the morrow."

"I may cut one thing to ribbons which will only then be pieced back together the day after," Hamilton chides. "Is that not how the senate conducts so much of its work, tear apart then glue together, back and forth, over and over?"

Laurens rubs his hand quickly over Hamilton's thigh. "Any distress you gain from the senate is upon your own head. You were a member of constitutional convention which made it as is."

Hamilton laughs and quickly kisses Laurens cheek. "As were you; and were the senate not as it is then perhaps you would yet be away from me in New York and not by my side swimming through this same writing."

Laurens smiles. "Fortunate then."

"Are you both still awake?"

Laurens slides his chair abruptly to the left away from Hamilton as Mrs. Hamilton comes through the door carrying a tea tray.

Hamilton looks up at her with a pleased exclamation. "I am surprised to see you encouraging us with tea."

She chuckles. "I know any suggestions I should make as to bed or time enough in the morning you will simply sweep aside and work on into the night despite me."

Laurens laughs and smiles at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton."

She nods at him as she puts the tea tray down on a table closer to Hamilton's side. "Be sure not to spill upon your work," she says to Hamilton. "You have done so before."

"I believe such an event happened once."

"At least twice."

He makes a disbelieving noise but does not contradict her.

Mrs. Hamilton then turns to Laurens. She clears her throat, glances at Hamilton then back to Laurens. "If you should find yourself tired you need not stay up through the night with him."

Laurens sighs. "I fear my work is as heavy as his own."

"And yet you both require sleep." She folds her hands by her waist then looks away as she speaks. "Perhaps he will listen to your advice if you suggest he break for rest in his own bed."

Then Mrs. Hamilton turns and walks out the door, closing it behind her. Laurens watches the closed door for a moment wondering at the strange tone of her voice in her last words.

––––––––––

Laurens returns to the Hamilton house after a day in the senate to find Mrs. Hamilton waiting for him.

"Might I speak to you in private, Mr. Laurens?"

No tea is laid for the two of them in the parlor nor do any messages appear to be waiting. Laurens glances around, expecting some surprise, as she closes the door behind them.

"My husband will not be home for many hours," Mrs. Hamilton says as an answer to Laurens' glances.

Mrs. Hamilton looks at a chair as if she might sit down but she does not. She breathes in deeply, folds her hands then looks right at Laurens.

"I can think of no way to put this delicately, so I must be blunt. I know the nature of your relationship to my husband."

Laurens feels his palms grow clammy. "Our relationship?"

"Alexander is not proficient in guarding his emotions, nor are you on occasion. You are living under my roof, Mr. Laurens. Your actions do not go entirely unnoticed. Do you think me blind?"

Laurens stares at her and remains silent. He cannot lie in the face of her truth. He knew, should have known, such close proximity between the three of them would only lead to ruin. He wonders if this is the feeling of drowning.

"I care not how long this affair between you has lasted, only that now it will stop." Her words come out clipped and strained. "Your senate term is near its end. You will leave this house."

"Mrs. Hamilton..."

"He is my husband," she suddenly gasps, "not yours!"

Laurens sees tears in her eyes. She breathes in and out deeply, clearly trying to compose herself. Laurens wants to ask how long she has known, what she has heard, how many times she has seen them working late into the night and wondered.

"I had no desire to offend you," Laurens says quietly.

She shakes her head. "But you have offended me, Mr. Laurens, as much as you have offended God by your unnatural deeds." Laurens flinches. "And even if this should be no factor in your actions, Alexander is my husband, a married man. Have you no consideration for that?"

Laurens cannot stop himself from a snide retort, "he was not so when I first met him."

Mrs. Hamilton's eyes widen and her lips pinch tightly. As she stares at him, Laurens thinks she may slap him. She obviously did not suspect their relationship to be of such long duration. Part of Laurens wishes he could take the comment back while another wants her to know every detail, every moment Alexander was his.

She draws in a deep breath and looks away. Then she pulls her arms up against her chest as if she could cradle herself against the heart ache she must feel. "You will leave tonight," she says, her voice soft. "Before Mr. Hamilton returns."

"As you wish." Laurens breathes through his nose to keep himself calm. "Will you tell him the reason of my departure?"

She turns her head toward Laurens sharply. "He bears half the guilt for this affair and must equally bear the blame of it."

Laurens cannot help but feel a measure of pride for this woman. Hamilton chose well.

"If you will allow me to say one thing?" She stares at him and simply waits. "Alexander always considered we two as entirely separate. My... place in his life has no bearing on his feeling toward you or your marriage. You are not a screen or shield; he loves you."

Mrs. Hamilton stares at him for a long moment with shadows hiding half her face now. Laurens wonders if she hates him or resents him or perhaps is jealous.

"I will ask you to leave now, Mr. Laurens," is all she says.

Laurens bows low then escapes the room, his breath coming fast. He packs what he can in fifteen minutes then asks a servant to have the rest sent back to his home in New York. When he walks out the front door, no one leads him out or wishes him well. He manages to hail a passing hansom cab to take him to a hotel. Inside the darkness of the cab he feels himself begin to shake as he breathes deeply in and out to force the bile back down his throat.

––––––––––

When Laurens arrives back in New York, his senate term ended, he returns to the law. A run for the state senate is too soon for his current sensibilities and taking on cases allows him time to write his own independent essays. If he focuses on cases, on writing, on his work then he can forget he is alone.

"Father?"

Laurens looks up from the land rights case upon his desk to see his daughter in the doorway. She smiles at him, looking him in the eye and not at the floor. He realizes he cannot recall when she became so direct.

"Yes, Frances?"

"Might I speak with you?"

Laurens gestures to the chair across from his desk. Frances walks in and sits in the chair. She flutters her fingers, smiles at him then fists her hands together. She clears her throat, shifts in the chair then smiles again.

"You had something you wished to talk about?" Laurens coaches.

"Yes, father, I..." Frances laughs once then shakes her head. "I think perhaps I should simply be forthright."

"That would help, my dear."

"I am being courted."

Laurens raises his eyebrows. "Courted?"

"Mr. Daniel Burke." She smiles and Laurens knows that expression, he remembers Martha – Frances' mother – and his sisters. He remembers that look upon his own face the first night he shared a tent with Hamilton at Valley Forge. "He has visited several times while you were away in Philadelphia. He was sure to only remain while I was chaperoned, of course."

"Of course."

"He is of good family, studied law as you have and is interested in a seat in congress."

Laurens smiles. "And your feelings on this gentlemen, Frances? Do you care for him, for while I would approve an advantageous marriage I would also allow you some feeling for the man?"

Frances smiles wide and Lauren thinks he must have said something right. "I do care for him, father." She leans forward slightly in her chair. "His family is throwing a ball which he has invited us to attend and I am hoping you will consent to attend with me to meet him and his family?"

Laurens stares at her and wonders when exactly it was she grew up. He remembers meeting her, a quiet hello and distant eyes then somewhere through the years she was tutored and presented to society and made acquaintances and apparently became a woman. What else does he even know about her? Is he a father or simply a caretaker of her life?

"Of course I will attend," Laurens tells her.

He wishes he could ask her what she would think about him, about the person he loves, who was never her mother, who is married to someone else far away in another city.

––––––––––

Laurens sits across the table from John Jay in Laurens' law office. The two of them work in near silence, quills scratching on paper. It is past noon now, though neither has broken their work for a midday meal. Laurens only needs another paragraph and he should be finished with his essay.

"I must thank you again for your assistance, Jay," Laurens says as he blots the ink on the page. "I know your office requires more of your time than my mere publications should allow."

Jay shakes his head. "It is work well worth doing and I am hoping to aid more bills though the state senate to make New York an example of anti-slavery."

Lauren smiles at him. "With a governor such as yourself we are well on our way."

"You flatter."

"Yes, I do."

They both laugh. Laurens adds another line at the end of his paragraph then puts his quill down. He blows once on the page then hands it across the desk to Jay. "Your thoughts would be most appreciated."

Jay takes the paper and leans back in his chair to read. Laurens stands from his seat and paces casually around the room. He looks out the window at the streets below. A horse and carriage stop at the building across the street so a woman in green can step out. She reminds Laurens of a certain green jacket Hamilton felt the need to wear perhaps too often. He breathes in deeply and runs over a list of cases he must review before the day is up in his head.

"I wonder," Jay begins, not continuing until Lauren turns around to look at him. "Much of your past work was in collaboration with Mr. Hamilton." Laurens purses his lips but stays silent. Jay looks back down at the page in front of him, making a notation. "I know he can be difficult at times but having worked with him myself I know how invaluable his input can be..."

"Mr. Hamilton is far more engaged with his work in Philadelphia." Laurens forces out a smile. "One must look to the money of our country after all."

Jay simply nods at him. "Too true." Then he returns his full attention to Laurens' essay.

Laurens turns around and stares out of the window again.

––––––––––

 _My Laurens,_

 _I know it has been long since we have spoken or written to one another, at least a year by my count and do not doubt that I have counted each day. I would urge you not to throw this letter aside as my heart could not bear your dismissal. Please read on._

 _Though my treasury position was to continue for another term I have chosen to resign it and return to my law practice in New York. I must confess, the salary of a cabinet official in our federal government does not sufficiently fill the coffers to properly live one's life and raise one's family in adequate means. Law is, as you well know, far more lucrative and, despite my desires to further aid and shape our federal system, I will now retreat to my favored city._

 _We are both aware of the situation before us but I must ask you to not allow this to force our friendship into the annals of history. I could not bear your presence in this world without my own beside you. I shall be back in New York in several months' time. Allow me to call upon you and soothe my broken heart. Adieu._

 _Yrs dearly,_

 _A. Hamilton_

––––––––––

A soft knock at the study door breaks Lauren's concentration from the book in his hands.

"Yes?"

His new house keeper, Mrs. Judd, opens the door part way and steps in. She smiles at the book in his hand; she had told him several weeks ago she felt his library far too dusty and disused to be quite fair to the poor books. (Though she has only been his housekeeper since his return to New York, Laurens finds her manners toward him to be an almost motherly attention. He oddly does not find it an unwelcome behavior.) She curtseys once then gestures over her shoulder.

"A Mr. Hamilton is downstairs to see you, sir. Shall I show him into the parlor?"

Lauren stares at her for several seconds before blowing out a breath and closing the book in his hands. "No, Mrs. Judd, you may send him here."

He sees a slight surprise to her expression but she merely nods, and exits the room. Laurens stands from his chair, places the book upon the small table beside his seat then walks over to his desk. He picks up his coat from where it lies draped over the chair the pulls it over his shoulders. He buttons it quickly, pulls it down once and rubs his hands over his chest to smooth out any wrinkles. He wonders at the state of his hair but has little time to think on it before a knock comes again at the door.

"Mr. Hamilton, sir," Mrs. Judd's voice says as the door opens towards Laurens.

The door blocks Laurens' view for two audible footsteps then Hamilton stands before him. He wears a deep brown coat which matches well with his hair and Laurens spies a maroon stripe to the vest beneath. Hamilton's expression is strange, as though a war for dominion between happiness and fear wages across his features.

"Mr. Laurens," Hamilton says with a brief bow.

"Mr. Hamilton," Laurens replies.

Then the door to the study clicks closed. The tense set to Hamilton's shoulders eases somewhat. "I cannot tell you," Hamilton starts, "what a struggle this time apart has been, Jack."

Laurens flinches at the name only those closest to him use. Hamilton does not miss Laurens' reaction. He clears his throat and continues on as Laurens remains silent. "I know we have been apart before but with no letters between us... no prudent choice in this matter, I... Laurens, I..." Hamilton takes a step forward which makes Laurens take a step back nearer to his desk. Hamilton's expression falls this time. "Laurens?"

"What do you wish from me, Hamilton?"

Hamilton frowns. "Wish from you? Do not turn cold and ignorant now, Laurens. Do not pretend –"

"I do not pretend," Laurens interrupts. "I face the reality of what is between us far more readily than you as I acknowledge its faults and its failures. I acknowledge that it must not continue."

"It has been time enough without, Laurens. Surely we can –"

"It must cease, Hamilton, that has been made quite clear."

Hamilton shakes his head. "You cannot mean this."

"Were what is between us possible, something not only for behind closed doors, the fact still remains that you are married, Hamilton."

He shakes his head. "No..."

"Yes. Yes, you are. We were foolish. We should not have..."

"It is not the same, John!"

"No. It is not the same, Hamilton. She is your wife. I am only your friend."

Hamilton moves forward quickly before Laurens can back away. "Not only." He grips Laurens' hand between his and speaks fervently. "Not only, not just my friend. You cannot reduce yourself."

Laurens pulls his hand away before he can lean into the touch as he wishes. "I must, as must you." He takes one step back and steals his feelings against Hamilton's crestfallen expression. "We should never have behaved as we did for so many years."

"You are not some other woman," Hamilton insists, "you are –"

"But the feeling is the same, is it not, Hamilton?" Laurens interrupts again. "Do you deny that?"

"No..." Hamilton shakes he head. "Of course I do not."

"Then while you may deny the equivalent nature of our affair to one of 'some other woman,' you cannot deny it a departure from your wife's affections and thus undoubtedly against your vows of marriage."

"We continued happily for years yet now that my wife's eyes have fallen upon us and her words cast you out, you find your conscience?" Hamilton says harshly. Laurens clenches his teeth as Hamilton glares at him. "Does her knowledge and censure truly cause you to run thusly? You rode against the might of the British army but one woman inspires such cowardice!"

Laurens stares at Hamilton so the silence languishes between them over several breaths. Then Laurens speaks quietly, "you seek to wound me as you envision I do to you. I have not done this to you, Hamilton. We have reached this moment as one."

"Laurens..." Hamilton's hard expression falters.

Laurens gestures to the door. "Good day, Mr. Hamilton."

––––––––––

A knock comes at Laurens' office door. One of his partners walks down the hall to answer the door as Laurens continues to write. His current case revolves around contested business rights, two men who began as partners before disagreements arose over business strategies.

"Laurens?" He looks up as he sees the man walking toward him again with a familiar figure at his heels. "Alexander Hamilton here to see you. He is prattling on about the election."

Hamilton smiles at Laurens as Laurens' partner marches down the other hall, slamming the door to his inner office at he goes. Laurens looks up at Hamilton standing in front of his desk. "What did you say to him?"

Hamilton takes his hat off and shrugs. "It would appear he is a Jefferson supporter."

Laurens sighs and leans back in his chair. "You came to speak with me about the election?"

"Yes." Hamilton's voice drops into a sort of conspiratorial whisper as he sits down in his chair. "Adams is favored to win for the federalists but you know how I cannot abide him."

"Hamilton..."

"However, Jefferson is certainly likely to garner favor in the south and his republican views bode far too destructive to all I accomplished while in Philadelphia. I would rather a third candidate take the office."

"Hamilton..."

"It is Pinckney," Hamilton says with a grin. "Though less preferred, he is a Federalist. I cannot, however, raise him up through simple campaigning as he could not surpass Adams in such a state at present. I need another angle."

"Then I wonder you come to me," Laurens finally manages to says over Hamilton's flurry of words. "I am not a man in politics at present."

Hamilton gives him a look. "Nor am I, but politics is ever intertwined in all our lives."

"Then simply keep me out of your political maneuvers. I am not interested and I should wonder at you working so underhandedly to influence our country's politics, speaking of 'angles?' You were not so during the war."

Hamilton frowns at Laurens. "This is not the war, Laurens. In ways, it is worse."

"Hamilton, please…"

"If you have an idea, Laurens, I welcome your contribution. Tell me you do not wish our country well, that you do not care for her politics and her progress?"

"You know that is not why you have come, Hamilton," Laurens hisses.

Hamilton shifts in his chair and after a pause speaks with careful precision. "I have come for many reasons."

Laurens voice drops to caution against men in rooms nearby. "You cannot do this to me, Hamilton. You must know your presence harms me."

Hamilton's hands clench around the arms of his chair. "It was you that made it so, Laurens." Laurens gives him a sharp glare so Hamilton's expression softens with chastisement. He removes his hands from the chair arms then sits forward in the seat. "You cannot ask me to cut you from my life. I could not bear it."

Laurens tries to look down at the brief in front of him and continue to write. "I am attempting what is best for us both. I do not call it easy."

"Laurens..." Hamilton reaches forward and grasps Lauren's hand which holds his quill. "I would remind you, I do not back down so easily."

Laurens stares at him for a long moment, he remembers the soldier he met, he sees the politician now, he sees the man he loves.

"You cannot fight the world, Hamilton." Laurens pulls his hand back leaving a blot of ink on the page. "If it please you to hear me say it, my affections for you remain." Hamilton breaks into a smile. "But you and I cannot deny society and God, what is right and proper, which must keep us apart. Go home to your wife. I know your care for her is deep and such affection should give you all the solace you need."

Hamilton stares at him and Laurens is surprised to see Hamilton is shaking. Then he abruptly stands up. "Should your mind change I would wish to hear it," he says curtly.

"Good luck with your election endeavors," Laurens says feeling a crack upon his heart.

––––––––––

On a January morning in 1797, John Laurens presents his daughter Frances Eleanor Laurens to be married to Mr. Daniel Burke. Frances stands beside Mr. Burke in front of a minster in the front parlor of Laurens' house. Burke's parents stand beside Laurens, smile at the eligible match and clap along with Laurens and the small group of family and friends behind them when his daughter and their son kiss as man and wife. Laurens sits at the end of a long table at dinner with Burke and Laurens aunt and uncles talking and drinking, the happy couple in the middle, friends beyond remarking on their charms. Laurens keeps his eyes on Frances, her smiles, speaks to her new mother and father-in-law. He says everything his father taught him to say; he behaves as a father should for a daughter he barely knows and never wanted. He can give her this night now as she moves into a life of her own. He can make up for his inattention with the start of a happy married life he can never truly understand or live.

"To Frances," Laurens says as he stands from his chair with glass raised, "and my son-in-law, Daniel." Everyone around the table raises their glasses with him. "I am pleased to part with my daughter to a worthy gentleman, a congressman with a bright future." Frances and Daniel smile as one. Laurens looks at them directly. "I wish you both a long and blessed life; may you be happy and faithful to one another." Then he turns to the table at large. "To the happy couple."

Those seated around the table clink their glasses to remarks of 'here, here' and 'amen.' Laurens clinks his wine glass against Mr. and Mrs. Burke's glasses. As he sits back down into his seat, he locks eyes with Hamilton beside his wife far down the table. Hamilton smiles at Laurens and mouths 'congratulations.'

After dinner, the wedding party shares drinks in the parlor conversing mostly about the future. Laurens stays for a time until he can escape for a reprieve upstairs in his study. He knows he cannot stay away for long but the entire affair raises odd feelings within him. His own marriage of propriety never brought out such emotions; he only recalls the night as short and his father quiet. He cannot imagine what it must feel like to marry someone he loves.

"Mr. Laurens?"

Laurens jumps slightly at the sound of Mrs. Hamilton's voice near behind him. He turns around to find her waiting, the door to the study now closed behind her. "Mrs. Hamilton."

She smiles, gloved hands as ever folded together at her waist. Her dress appears near black in the dim light of the study. Is she mourning for the state Laurens has caused in her marriage now or is he the one putting his own feelings upon her?

"I do not know what to say to you," She states simply. "You are..." She shuts her mouth with a frown. Then she sighs and turns toward the fire so her eyes glint with the light. "You were always a gentleman. You never gave me cause for displeasure as some men do. You deigned to listen when I spoke at the very least. And..." She sighs again. "How many times I heard you make him laugh, how much he smiled in your presence." She turns her head to look at Laurens again. "I made him laugh like that, smile in that same manner. The way he whispers to me at night, when he calls me Betsy, speaks to me of his fears and woes. Is that how he spoke to you?"

"I could not say, Mrs. Hamilton." Laurens keeps his distance and chooses his words carefully. "I imagine the words between husband and wife to be unlike any others."

She stares at him. He sees her eyes slide over his features as if searching for something. Then she shakes her head. "I think perhaps not unlike all others."

Laurens has no answer to her unreadable inner thoughts so stays silent.

Mrs. Hamilton breathes in deeply so she stands taller before him. "Mr. Laurens, I do not say these things because I approve of yours or my husband's behavior. I do not say these things because I think it right I should have to share my husband's affections and his... and his love with you. I say these things because while I can make him smile, he no longer laughs."

Laurens looks away at the dark shelves of books with volumes of law and history and science and none which can help in this moment.

"It would appear," Mrs. Hamilton continues, "I am not enough for him."

Laurens turns back to her. "You should be enough. You are his wife."

She smiles as she steps closer to him until she places her hand on the buttons of his coat. "And this is why I can hate neither you nor him. You campaign for me over yourself. He remains attentive at my side and harbors no animosity toward me." She shakes her head. "I never wanted for his love or felt a lack of him while you were..." She pulls her hand back into a ball against her bosom.

She watches Laurens face for a moment longer. Then she drops her hand to her side and takes a deliberate step back. Laurens wants to ask her if they feel the same pain. Could it be none of them can win now?

"I think, Mr. Laurens, you understand my husband. You understand his ambitions and his needs. He is not always an easy man but he can make one feel as grand as a queen with his eyes upon them. I think you understand how to support him and make him happy as I do. I want my husband to be happy."

Laurens frowns in confusion. "What are you attempting to say to me, madam?"

"We women must always sacrifice for our men." Laurens frowns in confusion but Mrs. Hamilton continues before he can think long. "I am saying, Mr. Laurens, you are welcome at our house once more should you wish to visit." Lauren cannot stop his eyes widening in surprise at her declaration. She nods once as she turns back toward the door. Then she stops with her hand on the doorknob and looks back. "Perhaps you should call me Eliza now."

John smiles as the best thank you he is able. "Then you should call me John."

––––––––––

Hamilton answers his own front door with an expression something like happiness and fear just as Laurens has seen him in the past. Now he thinks the happiness wins out over the fear.

"My wife and children are out for the night," Hamilton says as Laurens steps over the threshold. "No servants. The house is empty."

"I know," Laurens replies.

"Eliza, she said..."

"I know."

"You are here."

"I know."

Hamilton quickly pushes Laurens back against the door with his lips on Laurens'. Hamilton kisses him hard as though any moment might take Laurens away from him. Laurens wraps his arms around him, runs his hands up through Hamilton's hair and feels himself alive again.

"You are mine," Hamilton says into kisses, against Laurens' skin. "My Jack."

"Yes, Alexander."

Hamilton presses his forehead against Laurens, kisses Lauren's eyelids and twirls is fingers in Laurens' hair. "How I have missed you."

"And I you, but I need not your words now." Laurens pushes Hamilton backwards, kissing him hurriedly, and walks him toward the stairs.

Hamilton kisses him back, pulls at Laurens' buttons until Hamilton's heels hit the base of the stairs. He pulls away with a grin and climbs the stairs, Laurens a step behind him. Hamilton grabs him by the waist and knocks him into a wall once they reach the upper landing. Laurens hisses when his head hits the wood but Hamilton kisses him again before he can bemoan the rough treatment of his person. Hamilton smells like ink, as he always has, like paper and far away seas.

"Alexander, please," Laurens says, "do not toy with me."

Hamilton pulls his coat off his shoulders and drops it near the top of the stairs. Then he pulls Laurens by his lapels toward one of the guest rooms. Laurens' coat falls near the door, Hamilton's shoes beside them. Laurens takes off his vest then Hamilton pulls him down onto the bed.

"I missed you," Hamilton says as he kisses and pulls at fabric, finds his way to Laurens' skin. "I missed you. I love you."

"I love you," Laurens says over inches of Hamilton's skin, his neck, his chest. "I love you, oh Alex, I need you, I need..."

Hamilton presses Laurens into the mattress, kisses and breathing and hands which never stop moving. Laurens pulls Hamilton closer, keeps his legs tight around him, pushes aside sheets so nothing comes between them. Laurens kisses as they move hard and fast and slow again and he feels Hamilton hands every place he allows no one else. Laurens thinks of cold nights at valley forge, snow blowing in the flaps of their tent, Hamilton telling him how beautiful Laurens' eyes were up close as they kissed and slid hands down between each other in the dark. Now they have warm sheets and fires and Hamilton's hands are warm as they slide down Laurens thighs. He would stay now in this moment, Hamilton wrapped around him, inside him, moving until neither of them can breathe from ecstasy and never leave.

"I missed you," Laurens whispers just as Hamilton whispers, "I love you."

––––––––––

 _My Laurens,_

 _It saddens me to be away from my favored city, and of course by extension you, so soon it seems after returning to it. I spent much time wishing for a command during the revolution that to receive this position as senior major general of the army, especially at Washington's insistence, is both gratifying and overwhelming. I am not surprised Washington wished to remain at his Mount Vernon as we both heard him express wishes to be back there so often through the war and during his time as president. Why would he leave it now to head an army which is not upon the field? However, I will do my best in his stead as war with France may still become a reality. Adams, as you can imagine, would prefer me as far from my position as possible. Had he his way I suspect he would wish me shipped straight back to the Caribbean, but I will waste no more paper upon him._

 _How fares your daughter and her new husband? How fares your practice? I received your most recent essay on the equality of the races. I sense a measure of restraint on your part. I can recall many an enraged rant on the ignorance of flawed reasoning and the need for decisive actions. Perhaps age makes us more prudent and willing to compromise?_

 _I cannot find words to write to tell you how much my heart aches at your absence now. I feel as though I must write you twice as often to fill in the time lost before this. I lament every moment we are not close enough to call upon one another. Why did we choose a path in life to serve our country above ourselves? I must claim a desire for some selfishness. I wish but my wife and you beside me and my heart would thus feel whole._

 _Write me as often, if not more than my own pen will manage._

 _Adieu_

 _A. Hamilton_

––––––––––

Laurens knocks loudly upon the door. He waits several seconds and knocks loudly again. He shifts from foot to foot and nearly knocks a third time but the door opens before he can.

"I am come to see –"

"Yes, Mr. Laurens," the housekeeper says, "Mrs. Hamilton said to expect you, please come in."

Laurens nods and follows the woman inside and down the hall. He meets Eliza at the door to the front parlor. Her face appears somewhat pale and her expression is draw.

"Mrs. Ham… Eliza," Laurens says. "I just received news." He holds up a letter in his hand.

"Yes," she nods, "Alexander has heard." She breathes in deeply. "He is up in his study and he has not spoken since he read his letter. I should imagine you can soothe his pain more readily than I."

Laurens bows to her quickly. "Thank you, madam."

Then he turns, walks swiftly down the hall and up the stairs. He turns left on the landing and raps softly on the door to Hamilton's study. "Alexander?"

After a moment of silence, Laurens pushes the handle of the door down and enters the room. He closes the door behind him then turns to find Hamilton standing still facing the fireplace. "Alexander?"

"Jack," he looks over his shoulder at Laurens and Laurens sees tears in his eyes. "You heard?"

"Yes." Laurens walks across the room and stands close beside Hamilton's side. He wraps his arm around Hamilton's waist and Hamilton instantly leans against him. "They held the funeral Wednesday."

"Yes." Hamilton continues to watch the flames burning in the grate. Then he clears his throat and his voice sounds raw. "We knew Washington was a mortal man and yet his death still comes as a surprise to me. I think it impossible to ever meet his equal again."

They stand side by side watching the fire and think of war and leadership and a man who served far more than should be expected out of one life.

––––––––––

Hamilton tosses the newspaper down among the mess of papers already littered across the table. "I cannot decide who deserves my condemnation more, Jefferson or Adams! Were that I could write equally with both my hands and set my brain on two paths, I would never cease a tirade about them both."

"But you have not such skill," Pinckney admonishes, picking up the newspaper with its headline about something Jefferson wrote, "and as such you must focus your attention."

Hamilton frowns. "We cannot allow Adams as the voice of our party when Jefferson rallies such forces in the south." He steps toward the table again and taps his finger on a brief related to the naturalization act. "We call him a president but he made himself a king."

"You go too far, Hamilton."

"Do I? Had I been but fifteen years younger would I even be here or would my ship have been turned back by his fears?"

Pinckney shakes his head. "Hamilton you exaggerate. The naturalization act and the others were –"

"As though you found them favorable?" Pinckney sighs as Hamilton pushes on. "Adams would remove 'dangerous' foreigners, as if we are all rooted so deeply in this country, and erase our free speech, which we so fought for, if he finds the words distasteful to himself? Speak ill of a president?" Hamilton scoffs in a mocking manner. "How dare I? He thinks it ill to question when he did the same of a king?"

"These acts are long passed, Hamilton, and you are aware they should not last were a different man upon the seat." Pinckney steps closer to Hamilton. "Which is why you must pick your battle and that battle is Adams."

"I will not see him president again," Hamilton says decisively, "though nor will I see Jefferson with his anti–centralist views, as if we states would be better as islands. We must have a federalist elected."

"Do no attempt modesty, Hamilton," Laurens says so both Hamilton and Pinckney look across the table toward him where he has silently watched until now. "It is you." Hamilton's lips quirk in the beginnings of a smile. "It is you we Federalists want; it is the position you have wanted yourself, have you not?"

"President Hamilton?" Hamilton says with a pleased smile. "I must admit I have considered the notion."

Laurens laughs. "Yes, Hamilton, as we are all aware, as many others have considered for you. You have the leadership and the support behind you. Favor for Adams is already fallen. Why simply work to undermine him when you can surpass him?"

"You have some problems, however," Pinckney adds. "The treasury and your taxes are still not –"

Hamilton makes a disgruntled noise. "Talk not to me of 'my' taxes as if a government should run on smoke and air? Has it been not time enough?"

Pinckney picks up a glass from the sideboard and pours wine into it before taking a large gulp. "Rich men have long memories."

"Words to live by," Hamilton says with a dry tone.

"Let it not hinder you then," Laurens says to bring the two back to focus. "You know I am not a political idealist or as learned in the maneuverings of our politics as you two, but I know that if we put your name forth, Hamilton, you will have Federalists behind you."

Hamilton watches him, his expression pleased but guarded. "You believe this?"

"Do you not?"

Hamilton smiles. "You know I am not ignorant of my attributes."

"Hardly," Pinckney says with amusement.

"But," Hamilton continues with his eyes only on Laurens, "such pressure, such attention," and Laurens cannot escape his meaning, "would I bring that upon my person, upon my family?"

"Your wife is always by your side," Laurens says, "and you have no fear of responsibility." He clears his throat and nods once. "And your friends will always support you."

"Always?" Hamilton asks with a small smile.

Laurens smiles back. "Always."

Hamilton stands up straight, walks over to the sideboard and pours himself a glass of wine. He picks up the glass and holds it up in the air. "Then let me run for president, gentlemen!"

––––––––––

Hamilton, despite their hopes, does not win the election of 1800; the Federalist vote splits between Adams and Hamilton regardless of Laurens campaigning in the south and the multitude of public essays and support throughout the party. The Democratic Republicans, in contrast, maintain their Jefferson course and their constancy wins them the day.

"President Jefferson," Hamilton grumbles as Laurens pulls Hamitlon's shirt off over his head.

"You did support him in the end," Laurens counters as he kisses Hamilton's lips

Hamilton sighs and flops back onto the bed. "Only to keep Burr from the office himself."

"He will not thank you for it," Laurens warns as he leans against his dresser, arms crossed over his bare chest.

Hamilton shoots Laurens a look. "I would prefer Jefferson than Burr's lack of conviction. Burr would hope all the world to paint their views upon his blank slate then give him position as their mirror. That I call dangerous." Hamilton props himself up on one pillow and raises his eyebrows at Laurens too far away.

"As well as you would have done in the office, I cannot help some selfish pleasure," Laurens says carefully. Hamilton frowns as Laurens walks over to the bed and sits on the edge beside Hamilton. He dances his fingers up Hamilton's chest. "Were you president, our time together should be far more limited. Now you remain here beside me as I prefer."

Hamilton smiles and ducks his head down to hide how pleased the warm remarks make him. He wraps long fingers around Laurens' wrist on his chest, pressing against Laurens' pulse. He leans up and kisses Laurens once then twice.

"Would that I could stay forever."

––––––––––

"Mr. Laurens?" Someone raps loudly on the study door.

Before Laurens can barely say, 'come in,' the footman opens the door breathing somewhat heavily.

"Sir, a rider has come for Mr. Hamilton."

Hamilton frowns and puts down his cup of tea as the rider enters the room. "Sir." He bows once to Hamilton as he and Laurens stand to face the flushed man. "Sir, I am come to fetch you and take you to the house of your sister-in-law, Mrs. Church."

"What?" Hamilton says in surprise.

"If is your son, sir," the man says, "he has been shot in a duel."

Hamilton stares at the man silent and unblinking. Then suddenly he stumbles to the side and would have fallen had Laurens not darted forward and caught Hamilton by the shoulders. Hamilton sags heavily in Laurens arms.

"Fetch the carriage!" Laurens shouts. "We must go straight away." Then he shakes Hamilton and tries to stand him upright again. "Hamilton, Alexander, come now, we must go."

"Shot?"

"Stand up, Hamilton," Laurens insists.

"He was shot? My son… Jack…" Hamilton's hand fists in the fabric of Laurens' coat. "Jack, my son is shot."

"I heard him," Laurens half pushes and half pulls Hamilton toward the door and out of the study. "But we must now get to him."

"He told me," Hamilton says as Laurens pulls him stumbling down the stairs. "Philip said he had consented to the duel." Hamilton shakes his head still in apparent shock and confusion. "I told him to fire in the air."

"It seems not to have turned that way."

Hamilton look up at Laurens sharply. "You were in a duel."

Laurens stares down at him as they wait for the carriage in Laurens' front hall. "Yes."

"You were fine. You were not shot. You were fine."

"This is not then, Alexander."

"Lee was fine!" Hamilton says desperately as he grasps tightly to Laurens lapels. "You shot him but he lived. He lived!"

"Yes, Alexander, he did and Philip will too. He will live." Just then Laurens sees his footman opening the front door as the carriage appears in front of the house. "Come, the carriage is here!"

When they arrive at the Church residence, it is the lady of the house who opens the door with haste. "Alexander!" She says urgently.

"Angelica, is he…"

"Come with me," she says by way of answer, rushing the two of them inside the house. "They have brought him upstairs. The doctor is with him now. Eliza is not here yet. Alexander… the doctor, he spoke of infection…"

Hamilton glances at Laurens with naked fear upon his face. Laurens reaches out and squeezes both of Hamilton's hands between his. "It will be all right. Go."

Hamilton nods once then turns and follows Mrs. Church down the hall toward the staircase. Laurens watches until he can no longer see their retreating figures. More than anything Laurens wishes to follow where Mrs. Church led with his hand tight in Hamilton's. He glances up and around the fine hall. A grandfather clock stands near the door. Laurens sees dental molding around the ceiling and into the front parlor. The wood of the floor and walls is dark; Laurens cannot tell the type. Then a servant appears and leads Laurens into the parlor to wait.

It is not thirty minutes later before the bell rings, Laurens rises and Eliza rushes through the door as Mrs. Church opens it. Eliza glances at him as she passes the parlor with her sister's arms around her. Laurens knows by her face his presence confirms any worry she may have harbored as to her husband's whereabouts.

Sometime later, Mrs. Church returns to him in the parlor with a pair of servants bearing tea following behind her.

"Mr. Laurens, I presume?" she says as she sits on a chair across from him.

"Yes ma'am," Laurens replies as he rises.

"I am Angelica Church." Laurens bows over her hand then sits down across from her. She waits until the servants are finished laying out the tea then she smiles in a grim manner. "Thank you, Mr. Laurens, for escorting my brother-in-law here. As I understand it, he was in something of a state upon hearing the news?"

"Yes, he was," Laurens confirms but he does not elaborate. He picks up a cup but puts it down again without pouring any tea. "How fares their son?"

Mrs. Church pinches her lips together and picks up her own teacup. "Not well." She picks up the teapot with one hand and pours some tea into her cup held in the other. Then she puts the pot down again with a deep sigh. "He is likely to die. It would appear he was shot in the hip and the bullet traveled to his arm. His wound shows grave signs of infection. The doctor has little optimism for recovery." She drops a sugar cube unceremoniously into her cup.

Laurens stares at her. "You are frank, madam."

"There is no need for the two of us to ease the other's pain or pretend a more welcome outcome should occur. Instead we must prepare." She takes a swift drink of her tea. "Will shall soon be called upon to support our family in this loss."

Laurens nods and says nothing at her use of the word 'family.' He wonders for a moment how close in each other's confidence the sisters are. Has Eliza told Mrs. Church anything of her husband's more than friend in Laurens?

When Laurens wakes up again on the parlor couch, the sky outside the window is dark. He blinks several times to clear the sleep from his continence and determine where he is. Then he sees his empty teacup upon the unfamiliar table and remembers the rider to his house. He sits up abruptly and winces at the pain his shoulders.

"Mr. Laurens!" He sees Mrs. Church pause in the door to the parlor then they both hear the scream which originally woke Laurens from above stairs. "It is Eliza!"

Laurens jumps off the couch and hurries behind Mrs. Church down the hall then up the stairs, twisting down another hall past several doors until she stops at a closed door. They both hear the sound of sobbing and shouts from behind the door. Mrs. Church knocks several times then opens the door without waiting for admittance.

"Eliza?" Mrs. Church asks, moving to one side of the room.

Laurens takes in the scene as quickly as his eyes allow. Philip lies on a bed against the wall. His shirt is blood stained, his skin pale, his features are pinched in frozen pain and his eyes are closed. Doctor Hosack stands nearer the window as he puts a bottle of some liquid back into his bag with downcast eyes. He closes his bag then walks by Laurens, "the coroner shall come soon," and exits the room.

The real source of the commotion in the room, however, is Hamilton and Eliza. Both Hamilton and Eliza stand near the bed with tears down their cheeks. Eliza shoves Hamilton in the chest over and over screaming, "You did this! You told him to duel!"

"Eliza…" He begs her, as he tries to grasp her hands and arms, but she keeps pulling herself away.

"He dueled because of you." She points at him violently. "Because of a slight on your character!" She suddenly smacks him across the face making both Laurens and Mrs. Church gasp in surprise. "Why did you let him? How could you!"

Laurens rushes forward to Hamilton's side but is unsure how to come between them. Neither Hamilton nor Eliza pay him any mind.

"Eliza," Hamilton holds out his arms to his wife. "I did not think he would –"

"Did not think?" She shoves him again so he knocks into Laurens. Mrs. Church attempts to grasp Eliza's arms and hold her back. "No, you did not! You did not think about our son's life!"

"Eliza, please," Mrs. Church says as she pulls Eliza back flush to her person "Calm yourself, please!"

Laurens grips Hamilton's arm and pulls him several steps back away from the bed and out of Eliza's reach. Hamilton moves without complaint as he stares at his wife. Eliza's chest heaves and tears flow down her face. Mrs. Church casts curious glances at her sister, keeping her hands still around Eliza.

"Leave," Eliza says coldly.

"What?" Hamilton gasps.

"Leave!" Eliza shakes her head and moves as if to shove Hamilton once more but Mrs. Church holds her fast. Eliza's face hardens and she shakes her head once more. "I cannot look at you while our son lies dead in this bed." She points suddenly at Philip's still body. "I cannot look at you when you let this happen!"

"He is my son as much as yours!" Hamilton suddenly snaps back. "I cannot leave him!"

Eliza gasps hard and it begins to sound like a wail. "Our son… Philip… Alexander, why?"

"Go, Alexander," Mrs. Church says. "I will calm her and call you back tomorrow. Please, I can help her now."

"Take him!" Eliza says suddenly looking at Laurens. "Take him away from me. I do not want him!"

A sound like a groan starts to issue from Hamilton; it scares Laurens. He cannot think what to say, how to help, so he chooses action. He grips Hamilton's arms strong in both his hands and leads him toward the door. Laurens pulls open the door and takes Hamilton out into the hall. As soon as the door closes, Hamilton spins around in Laurens' hands and tires to open the door again.

"No, I cannot, I –"

"You will see him again, Hamilton," Laurens admonishes as he holds Hamilton fast where he stands. "She is a grieving mother. She needs only some time."

"I am his father," Hamilton says weakly.

"And you will see him rightly buried," Laurens says gently, pulling Hamilton back a step. "For now come away, Alexander. Come with me."

Hamilton finally looks up at Laurens face for the first time since he and Mrs. Church came into the room. "Jack," he says with a voice gone heavy with sorrow, "my son is dead."

Hamilton's knees give way and he slips slowly down Laurens' body until they both kneel on the floor. Laurens wraps his arms around Hamilton, leans the two of them back against the wall and does not let go as Hamilton clings onto Lauren shaking.

––––––––––

Hamilton sits at Laurens' breakfast table with the top of his shirt untied, no cravat and his vest yet to be buttoned. A half full or half empty, depending upon one's view, mug of coffee sits beside his right hand. Three newspapers lie in various states of disarray over the table in front of him along with stacks of papers which are likely court cases. Laurens spies one broken quill on the floor while another is hard at work in Hamilton's hand.

"Good morning."

Hamilton looks up as Laurens walks into the dining room. "Is it morning?"

Laurens frowns as he stops beside the table on Hamilton's left. "Did you not sleep?"

"I slept." Hamilton frowns. "Perhaps..." Hamilton looks at the papers around him then looks up at Laurens again. "I may not have. I was reading through several briefs and I have a request for advisement from the treasury I must also attend to."

"You did not sleep," Laurens fill in himself.

Hamilton clears his throat and taps the page with his quill leaving a blot of ink. "I have many responsibilities and the cases have piled up –"

"Your law practice has ferried well with your partners at the helm while you pursued political office. You need not bury yourself in it now."

Hamilton shakes his head and takes a drink of his coffee. "My work must be –"

"Hamilton." Laurens pulls a chair over close to Hamilton's side. "It has been more than a month. Your wife..."

"Will not see me, Laurens, as you are aware." He smiles and cocks his head. "Are you not pleased to have me in your house?"

Laurens sighs. "Not like this, Alexander. Distracting yourself thusly will do you no good."

Hamilton drops his quill on the table and shifts around towards where Laurens sits beside him. "Are you suggesting you distract me instead?" He leans in to Laurens and kisses his lips. Laurens breathes quickly through his nose in surprise then pulls away from the kiss. "Hamilton..."

"Do you think your servants truly do not know?"

"That is not the point." Laurens cups Hamilton's cheek. "You cannot go on like this. You must make amends."

Hamilton's face falls. "My son is dead, John. Nothing can be amended."

––––––––––

"Mr. Laurens." The housekeeper's eyes shift past Laurens standing in the doorway to Hamilton standing several steps behind him. She appears uncomfortable. "Can I assist you?"

"We are here to see Mrs. Hamilton."

"Mrs. Hamilton is not at home at present."

"Yes, she is."

"I…" The housekeeper balks in surprise at his rebuttal then recovers. "I do not believe she is receiving any guests."

"Let us in, Mrs. Walker," Laurens insists.

The housekeeper straightens her shoulders and tilts her head in an attempt at a haughty manner. "I cannot do that sir."

"It is his home too!" Laurens snaps then controls himself and says quietly. "Please, they must reconcile. This cannot go on."

She stares at him for a moment then sighs lightly and steps back out of the doorway. Laurens smiles quickly in thank you then reaches back and grasps Hamilton by the arm, taking them both inside the house. Laurens only needs to walk past the front parlor, back toward the family parlor to find Eliza. She looks up at him, clearly not overly surprised, then stands from her chair.

"This is most unsuitable of you, sir." Her eyes shift to Hamilton, still standing somewhat behind Laurens, for a moment then she looks at him again. "I must ask you to leave."

"I am here to help."

"I require no help from my husband's paramour."

Laurens breathes in deeply once to calm himself and does not rise to her insult. He glances at Hamilton then back to Eliza. "May we sit?"

"No."

"Please," Laurens says through clenched teeth. "He is your husband."

"Eliza…" Hamilton says in a plaintive voice.

Eliza turns her head away. For a moment she says nothing then she abruptly turns around, walks back to her chair and sits down. Laurens takes that as the best opening they shall be allowed. Laurens pushes Hamilton's back so he moves into the room and sits on the chaise across from her. Laurens stays standing a few steps into the room. No one speaks.

"I know I cannot understand how the two of you feel in this time," Laurens begins. "Your grief will not leave you soon to be sure, but it does no good to let anger and guilt keep you apart when it is each other who can understand your pain most."

Eliza stares determinedly at a spot on the wall though Laurens sees her shoulders shaking either with anger or held back tears he cannot say. Hamilton leans forward in his seat with his eyes upon the floor.

"Eliza, you refuse to see Alexander and Alexander, you hide from Eliza." They both make unintelligible noises which Laurens surmises confirm his remarks. "Mrs. Church and I can only do so much to aid you both."

Laurens waits a moment to see if either of them will say something. Eliza's posture has eased but she still does not look at either of the men in the room. Hamilton looks rather like he wishes he could run away. Laurens wants to give in, to hold him tight and do as Hamilton silently asks but Laurens knows the real method to help Hamilton, and Eliza, is right here.

"You have always lifted each other up and made sacrifices for each other." Laurens looks at Eliza in saying this, her eyes finally turning to look at him. "And you have lost a son together. You should mourn together, not apart. This separation only strengthens your grief." Laurens lowers his voices. "Forcing blame onto each other or oneself will not bring Philip back."

Eliza cries out quietly and puts a hand to her mouth. Hamilton looks up at her with grief just as plain on his face. Then he stands up and walks across the room to Eliza. He kneels down in front of her and takes her other hand in his. "I'm sorry," his voice cracks as he speaks, "I'm sorry. It was my fault."

"No, our son, he…"

The two of them curl closer together as Eliza puts her hand on Hamilton's hair. Hamilton whispers something Laurens cannot hear and Eliza begins to sob. Laurens steps back quietly until he is out of the room. He inclines his head even though neither of them look at him then turns and walks back down the hall. He is nearly to the front door when he hears Eliza's voice.

"John." He turns back to her behind him now. "I wish to apologize for my words earlier. They were unkind."

"I believe you have some right."

She smiles in a grim way. "Even so." Then she reaches out and squeezes his hand. "I believe you cared for us both today."

Laurens only nods at her. "Be well."

––––––––––

Laurens and Hamilton walk side by side along a quiet residential street in Harlem. They left Hamilton's house some half an hour past and have simply walked. The sun has fallen low in the sky and soon they should turn back. However, neither one seems inclined to stop their idle walk.

"Do you know, Alexander," Laurens says, "we shall both be turning fifty years of age soon."

Hamilton makes a disbelieving noise. "Do not say such."

"You cannot deny the years."

"Certainly not," Hamilton says gesturing to himself, "I see them quite well upon my face."

Laurens smiles fondly. "Perhaps a few lines but I still see a youth of twenty who desired a sword above the safe writing desk he was given."

Hamilton laughs. "Ah yes, my bold and brash youth, you think?"

"I think it not so confined to your youth."

Hamilton laughs again. "As though your soldier days did not involve at least one gunshot wound and far too much recklessness in combat?"

"True."

Hamilton brushes the back of his hand against Laurens' as they walk. Fading sunlight shines through the scattered trees around them. "Sometimes I think it a wonder we shall reach fifty years."

"Because of the revolution?"

"Because of us." Laurens frowns thinking Hamilton means their relationship but then Hamilton squeezes his hand. "Our natures have always been bound to find us trouble."

Laurens chuckles. "You, perhaps."

"Ah, Mr. John Laurens thinks himself the proper gentleman who ruffles no feathers with his talk of emancipation and the equal nature of men."

"Yes, yes, your point is made."

Hamilton smiles at him. "I think you perfect, Jack."

Laurens looks at him with a surprised smile. "No man is perfect, Alexander."

"You are perfect in all those ways which matter, my dear Laurens. I could start a list if you wish to find out how long you can withstand such praise?"

Laurens smiles and feels a very strong desire to kiss Hamilton despite the public nature of their surroundings. Instead he sidesteps closer so his shoulder brushes with Hamilton's as they walk. "I am happy enough to have you by my side, Alexander, I need no list of praise."

"Perhaps I shall write you one someday. You know how I enjoy writing."

"'Enjoy' being an understatement."

"I…" Hamilton suddenly stops walking.

Laurens walks two more steps then turns back to Hamilton with a frown. "What?"

Hamilton stares at him with a smile that says 'I love you.' Laurens takes two steps back so he stands in front of Hamilton. He grasps both of Hamilton's hands for a moment and presses 'I love you too' into Hamilton's finger tips.

"Come, Alexander," Laurens says. "We should turn back before the sun is truly set."

"As you wish," he replies.

––––––––––

On July 12th, 1804 John Laurens does not die.

On July 11th, 1804 Alexander Hamilton could have set aside his political rivalry with Aaron Burr. He could have apologized for defaming Burr's character, held back his pen and chosen not to provoke Burr further. He could have met on the field at dawn and used his ever persistent words to negotiate a truce. He could have slept beside his wife or kissed his Laurens late into the night.

But.

On July 11th, 1804 Alexander Hamilton duels with Aaron Burr.

Laurens and Eliza sit side by side at Hamilton's bedside. Eliza holds his one hand and Laurens holds his other. Neither speaks, only watches Hamilton still body. Then Eliza slides her free hand into Laurens' and squeezes hard.

"Tell me he did not voice to you his intentions." Tears fall down her cheeks but she does not pull her hand away from Laurens or her husband to wipe them off. "He told me the story of when he was your second, when you dueled General Lee."

"We were very young then," Laurens replies.

"Yet he did not choose you as his second now?" She breathes in audibly. "Tell me you did not know."

"I did not," Laurens confirms and clears his throat to stop himself from crying with her. "If he had told me I would have stopped him and he must have known that."

"I see."

Suddenly Eliza pulls her hands away back to her lap. She sighs then picks up her bag from the floor beside her chair. She pulls something forth and holds it out to Laurens. It is a letter.

 _My darling Laurens,_

 _I must first apologize to you for the pain I am now causing. I have written another letter regarding my intentions in this duel which you may read as well. However, the words I write here are only for you._

 _No doubt you will be angry with me for this duel and for my willfully keeping you in the dark about my plans. With luck, you will need only see this letter as apology after I return. Should that not be the case, I ask you to forgive me for leaving you as you have never given me cause for such pain as I do to you now. I know your pain will be private and lonely and I hope these words will ease that solitude._

 _Suffice it to say, my darling Jack, I love you. My affection for you has not waned in all these near thirty years since we met in the cold of what looked to be a losing war. I can think of few others who hold so high a place in my heart. You may think me selfish now and you would be right; I have always been selfish with you, wanting no others to retain your affections as I have. So I thank you for your patience with me and for loving me as dearly as I have cared for you._

 _Please think well of me always, remember my dearest regard and love for you, you whom I never deserved but always wanted._

 _Your Alex_

On July 12th, 1804 John Laurens does not die (he lives on in New York City, he is reelected to the state senate to pass measures toward social reform, his daughter bears three children, he visits Eliza often and helps with her campaign to remember her husband's legacy, he eventually returns to the federal congress and campaigns for freedom for those in bondage) but on this day, though he lives, a part of John Laurens' heart dies instead.

1 Letter from Alexander Hamilton to John Laurens, August 15th 1782; /DLKqFV


End file.
